Safe
by gigi2690
Summary: "Dragging out life to the last possible second is not living to the best effect. The nearer the bone, the sweeter the meat. The best of life... lies nearest to the edge of death." Myka really ought to stop rereading H.G's books, now that she was back. - Yes, it's one of those finally admit their feelings stories.


"**Dragging out life to the last possible second is not living to the best effect. The nearer the bone, the sweeter the meat. The best of life... lies nearest to the edge of death."**

Myka really ought to stop rereading H.G's books, now that she was back. If H.G wasn't within physical reach (although she usually was; their conception of personal space regarding each other had shrunk even more following their confrontation with Walter Sykes), then she was in Myka's thoughts. And rereading those books, knowing those were a woman's words, Helena's words, it was like seeing the words anew, and likewise seeing Helena anew. She started making connections, like her mind was wont to do; and some of those connections blossomed into revelations that brought a smile to her lips, others like this one, did not.

The look stuck on her face at that moment couldn't be farther from a smile. Her eyes were wide and unblinking, in immobilizing incredulity, annoyance, and lust. Yes, Myka had long ago owned up to the fact that she lusted after the beguiling enigma that was Helena Wells, the physical pull and stimulation she felt in the artificer's presence could only be ignored for so long. If Myka was honest with herself, it was probably more than just carnal attraction and mutual respect. The way Myka had clung to her collection of H.G Wells' books through the whole hologram/Emily Lake period, the way she -still now 3 weeks since Helena had been back- would reach out when the other woman was near, just to confirm that her hands wouldn't fall through her, that she was really there.

No. Myka wasn't blind. And coming to terms with the fact that these feelings were for a woman was far easier than coming to terms with the feelings being for her favourite ought-to-be-male-and-dead author, turned villain, turned warehouse agent, turned mother with so much pain she almost ended the world (although Myka admits this was there all along; she just didn't see it soon enough), turned annoying cat lady, turned warehouse agent again.

She'd have smiled then, like she regularly did when realizing Helena had been re-re-instated as an agent (on probation until further notice), but she didn't. Because H.G had taken to inventory with the same gusto and drive in which she approached most of life. And it was this usually very attractive trait of the inventor's that had Myka frozen in place in the middle of aisle 327F. For Helena was currently perched on the top of an astoundingly tall ladder, warped and dusty, for all appearances an artifact in itself. She had one booted foot on the second to top stair, and the other foot poised in mid air to her right as she sought to find a spot for an object of an indeterminable nature from Myka's vantage some 40 feet below. What was clearly visible to Myka's gaze was the smooth expanse of the small of Helena's back, her button down shirt having been pulled up as she stretched to reach the shelf. The conflicting feelings in her gut left her both turned on and angry.

Although Myka had known Helena was reckless, it was always tempered by a highly logical and calculating mind, often on the verge of perfectionism. Those warring impulses had certainly made her an interesting partner when they tracked down artifacts together, and an even more interesting target back when they shared heated gazes over the barrel of a gun or tesla.

**The best of life... lies nearest to the edge of death.**

But now with Helena hovering far above her in a much too precarious position, Myka recalled those words and wondered if H.G really did want to die. Finally the air came back into her lungs and Myka felt distinctly like someone had just pushed play. She stumbled forward and looked up, still quite aghast, at Helena,

"H.G! WH-WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" And Myka knew, as she watched the ladder start to wobble, that she really shouldn't have yelled up at a distracted woman standing on top of a rickety ladder in a warehouse full of extraordinary and hazardous objects. But that was the trouble with hindsight, and Myka didn't have time to do much more thinking because there was a surprised yelp and then Myka was on her knees with Helena in her arms. She was very aware of the closeness of their bodies, and the tension in her muscles that had little to do with holding up Helena's weight. It was quite nice except for the bit jabbing her in the side, she yanked it out from between them. It had been whatever artifact Helena had been trying to put on the shelf. Myka only spared it a passing glance as she returned her gaze to the woman in her arms.

Helena had one hand over her chest; once her breathing began to steady, she turned to stare at Myka, features drawn in exasperation but with eyes dancing with mirth,

"Darling, what has brought you yelling at my feet on your day off?" What Myka wanted to say was; that she was bored, or that she had wanted to ask H.G a question, or any of the million things that spun through her head at that moment, but what she said was,

"I wanted to see you. But then I saw you, just hanging there practically begging for trouble, and I just can't..." Myka trailed off, or rather she bit her tongue, but the effect was the same. The bliss that had been their closeness seconds before was now her undoing. For she could see Helena's eyebrows knit together, and she could see the synapses firing, her brilliant mind dissecting her with an intimacy that left Myka feeling completely exposed and far too vulnerable. Helena's eyes finally left her face to glance at the small space between them and the artifact still clutched in Myka's palm.

A few seconds later when Helena's eyes found hers again, the look in them had altered dramatically. Gone was the confusion and concern, her gaze now both affectionate and predatory,

"You can't what _Myka_?" Helena's voice was barely a whisper; Myka's name fell, from her parted lips, in the form of a soft sigh.

Myka shrugged, a gesture that raised H.G's body in her arms causing her to press more solidly against her once Myka's shoulders fell back into place. H.G's hand was caught between their bodies, fingers trapped at her side and quite snugly between Myka's breasts. Surely it was due to the delicious distraction of those fingers and the breath against her neck that caused the following words to tumble from her mouth,

"I just can't," Myka was first to break eye contact, her focus falling to Helena's lips as the words kept coming far beyond her control, "...I can't lose you again. I already have. In so many ways. And I just..." Myka didn't have to bite her tongue that time; she trailed off in sheer exhaustion. Each word felt like it took far too much energy to say. It was utterly draining. She felt like she couldn't breathe. Something wasn't right.

Helena reached out with her free, gloved hand, and took the artifact from Myka's ungloved one, setting it to the floor beside them. She pulled herself out of Myka's grip enough to get her feat back on the floor, unable to contain a small smile as Myka's hands fisted in her shirt, keeping her close. She yanked the gloves from her fingers with a snap, and rose to cradle Myka's face in her hands. She delighted in the warmth from the flush in Myka's cheeks, a flush that was starting to blossom along her neck trailing down beneath her shirt. Helena put all salacious thoughts aside and conjured a look that she hoped would appear at least somewhat abashed. Despite the many mistakes she had made in her life, Helena didn't have much experience in feeling sorry. But she was; she was because it was Myka.

"I'm sorry Myka. The opportunity was far too tempting; you had already touched it, and I had no idea the negative effects would kick in quite so quickly." Helena watched Myka's gaze flicker to the artifact on the floor and back to her,

"Artifact. What. Is. It?" Myka's voice came in gasps, but it was slowly calming back towards a more normal rhythm.

"A microphone from the Nuremburg Trials. It makes the person that touches it tell the truth, but given it's horrific beginning (WWII had been one of the most disheartening events she'd learned about in her quest to learn a hundred years of history. She had stumbled upon it at a very unfortunate time when she was deciding whether or not to go through with the destructive agenda she'd designed during her time in the bronze sector), it drains the person using it... rather quickly apparently." Helena finished, mostly to herself. Myka had finally settled down, the effects of the artifact lessened, but Helena's shirt was still wrapped tightly in her fingers,

"You used an artifact on me?" Helena would have winced if it weren't for the fact that Myka was giving her a lopsided grin, looking both embarrassed and amused. Confident that Myka wasn't upset, Helena teased the younger agent,

"You grabbed it of your own volition. And doesn't the manual say to always wear neutralizer gloves on the warehouse floor?" She finally pulled herself from Myka's grasp at last and rose to her feet, brushing dust off her trousers. It was for this reason she missed the emotions flittering across Myka's face: incredulous, angry, turned on. And it was for this reason that Helena didn't see Myka coming until she was being spun around and shoved against a stack of empty crates, hard. Warm lips crashed against her own, not seeking permission but demanding it. Myka's hands were on both sides of her face, wrapped in her hair, pulling her ever farther into the kiss. Myka's hips were moving against her, causing an excruciatingly pleasurable friction. Helena's heart was pounding in her head; the sensations were everywhere; Myka was everywhere, and Helena wondered if perhaps she were still falling.

Myka tore her lips away, placing a gentle kiss on Helena's pulse point before speaking against her throat, "I'm going to take you to my room: I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll be sore for days;" the harshness left Myka's voice, her next words spoken reverently against the shell of Helena's ear, "I'm going to make love to you until you can go no further, until there is no higher level of pleasure and you finally understand just what you mean to me;" Myka pushed herself off of the crates now, raising out a hand palm up for Helena to take. With pupils dilated, cheeks flushed, hair mussed, she was to Helena's appreciative gaze, devastatingly beautiful, "and then I'm going to go over every one of the rules in the manual because I refuse to let you value your own life so poorly as to take you away from me."

And in that moment Helena wanted to say so much, but there was time; instead, she took her hand.


End file.
